Sometime Around Midnight
by VausemanFanfic
Summary: (Originally a one-shot only. Changed to a chapter based story) It starts sometime around midnight, or at least that's when you lose yourself for a minute or two. What Alex feels when she see's Piper almost 6 years later. Based off the song 'Sometime Around Midnight' by The Airborne Toxic Event. Rated T for use of language.
1. Chapter 1

You're at the club, the same club you've visited almost every night since the day she left.  
_The day your heart was ripped from your chest and taken from you.  
_The band is playing a song you've never heard of and it's so loud you can't hear what your friend is saying next to you, the bass so heavy that you can feel it thudding in your chest like a hundred elephants stamping on your body. Unknown bodies push up against you and you feel unsteady on your feet, not knowing whether it's the dancing crowd crushing you against people you don't know, or the large amount of alcohol rushing through your bloodstream.

_Your head hurts._

_It really fucking hurts._

You check your phone for the time but the hustle of the crowd and the alcohol means you are unable to steady your hand long enough to focus on the screen. It's sometime around midnight, that's all you can gather. You realise that this isn't a fun way of living anymore. You get lost in your thoughts; thoughts of _her, _thoughts of the drugs, thoughts of everything you lost, _thoughts of her. _You can hear your friends calling your name but you struggle to breathe, you need air. You fight your way through the crowd looking for the nearest exit.

_And that's when you see her. _

You stand still, your feet frozen to the floor. The muffled sounds of the band on stage ring out in your ears, but you can't make out what they're singing about. The heavy bass disappears and the faint chime of piano keys can be heard, you watch as she smiles. That smile you haven't seen in 6 years, that smile you miss so fucking deeply. What was she doing in New York? Surely you must've seen her around if she lived here? The lights in the club light up her dress; _red, blue, purple, _you can't figure out what colour it is and it annoys you, the colour of a dress is making you angry because you know this girl like the back of your hand and yet you can't even pick out the colour of something so simple like the dress she's wearing.

_White._

_You realise her dress is white._

You shake your head. '_Stop being so stupid'_ you say to yourself internally.

You keep your eyes fixed on her dress. She's watching you; you can feel her eyes burning into you. But you cannot look at her, not yet. You turn around, push your way in between two bodies and lean against the bar. Heaven knows what would happen if it wasn't there to hold you up. Dizziness sets in and your head begins to spin, you feel drunker than you did only a few minutes earlier. The song ends and the crowd erupt into applause. In the split second of silence between the clapping and the next song, you hear laughter.

_Her laughter._

You snap your head in her direction and witness her smile for a second time. Her beautiful smile. She's holding her drink in one hand, the other tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. And that's when you lock eyes with each other. You want to turn away and stop this spinning in your head, but you're drawn to her.  
You assume she's here with her friends, the ones she's laughing and joking with. As you continue to look at her, she moves closer. You almost have to look down at your feet to make sure you're not the one walking towards her.

_You're standing still._

_She's coming over. Coming to you._

You're met with the smell of her perfume and you recognise it instantly. It's different, unique. You know you would recognise it anywhere. The smell brings back memories of her. _Memories of her with you._ She stands in front of you, so close that your bodies are almost touching. And in that moment you remember what it was like to hold her, what it was like to spend all those countless days and nights with her naked in your arms. You were her safety, and she was your home. A lump forms in your throat and you have to swallow hard, afraid that your heart is about to make an appearance in your mouth.

"How are you?"

Who knew that 3 simple words other than 'I love you' could send you into a frenzy. You open your mouth but nothing comes out, you've frozen. You forget how to speak and so you stand staring at her, your mouth slightly agape. It takes what feels like forever to compose yourself; you clear your throat and speak.  
Your answer is short, and some may even say that it was bitter. You kick yourself for sounding so uninterested in her.

_You're so fucking interested in her._

You're met with a wave of emotions. _Anger, hurt, jealousy, sadness_…any emotion a person can feel other than happiness. The memories of her flood your mind and you feel like your head is about to explode. There are too many memories of her, too much hurt and pain attached to them. All either of you can do is stare at each other.

As the crowd continues to move, someone knocks into her from behind, sending her body colliding with your own. The contact makes your heart stop beating for a few seconds and your body tenses up. When she withdraws, you feel homeless. She was your home, and the loss of contact felt like she'd just taken it from you for a second time. You see the look on her face. She has to leave.

_Of course she has to leave._

She walks away and reaches for a man standing with the group of people you first saw with earlier. You don't know who he is. She holds onto his arm. A friend? A boyfriend? You don't want to think about it, it makes you feel sick. As she is leaving, she turns around to look at you one last time. She knew you'd be watching her, she can read you like a book.  
Your blood boils, your anger sets in. You want to protect her from this guy she's leaving with. You want her to be safe, you know the only time she ever felt safe was with you. _She told you herself. _

A tap on your shoulder. It's your friends. They ask you what's wrong, make fun of you and ask if you've seen a ghost. _The ghost of the only girl I've ever loved,_ you want to say. But instead you smile and thump one of your friends on the shoulder and take the drink that he's holding to your face. You've lost all control of your mouth it seems, and you are unable to speak a sentence without slurring your words so instead you take a drink and hope the memories of her disappear. Your friends laugh at you; you wonder if they know who you just saw a couple of minutes ago.

Concentrating on anything else other than her seems like the hardest thing to do, and you know you have to leave. You have to go after her; you know you need to do this. Shoving the drink back in your friend's hand, you push yourself off the bar and set off towards the door. You're unsteady on your feet but you carry on, bumping into anyone and everything as you leave for the exit.

It's raining outside and it's fucking cold. You have no idea where she could have gone; if she had any sense she would've taken a taxi and would be long gone by now. You walk down the street, searching for any sign of her as the streetlights illuminate the way. Other party-goers line the sides of the street, laughing and joking with one another, probably taking the piss out of you for being a sad, lonely drunk. You don't care what you look like or how the rain has messed with your hair. You don't care that you're drunk and you look like a fucking mess. You just know something. You have to see her.

_You have to see her. _

_You just have to see her, __you know that it would break you in two._

_But she's gone._


	2. Chapter 2

_'Originally, this story was only supposed to be a quick one-shot. However, some of the feedback I received has pushed me to begin this as a story. Let me know what you guys think! The first few chapters will probably be dark, but I promise things will turn round eventually :)'_

When you wake the next morning, it takes everything in you not to call her. Besides, she's probably changed her number anyways. You haven't seen her for 6 years; 72 months; 312 weeks, 2,190 days. You managed for so long, and now a simple glance of her has brought you right back to where you started.

_Pining for her._

You hate her, after all, how could you not? She left you, stranded alone in fucking Paris. The day your mom died. Your fucking mom. But this was the girl you fell in love with. _The only girl you've ever fallen in love with._

You check your phone and see that it's only 10am. You have a few missed calls from your friends and that's when you remember how much of an idiot you must've seemed last night. You left your friends alone at the bar in hope of finding Piper. They weren't familiar with Piper; these guys were the ones you met when you became too heavily involved in the cartel to back out. Nichols is the only one that would've possibly remembered her, but she was too drunk to even stand on her own two feet.

Picking up the phone, you give Nichols a call.

"Dude are you crazy?" You hear from the other side of the phone.

_You woke her up._

"It's the middle of the fucking night."

You roll your eyes and stretch out your body. "Man up, Nichols. Hey, you wanna do something today?"

"If it doesn't involved getting high and shitfaced, then no." You laughed. This was exactly the thing that Nichols enjoyed most.

"Well I wanted to hang for a bit, got a lot of shit going on in my head right now."

"That why you left the club so promptly last night? Jesus Christ, anyone would've thought you were running away from something."

"Fuck off Nicky. You up for hanging or not?"

There was a pause and then a cough on the other end of the phone. "Sure dude, we can chill at my place. Be all romantic on the rooftop and shit."

"Yeah, sounds greaaaat." You dragged out your words, hinting at the sarcasm. "I'll be round later after I sort some shit."

After the phone call, you drag your body to the shower and step in letting the hot water scald your body. All you want is to fucking shower, but your mind wanders back to Piper and you can't help but let your thoughts drift away as you lean your forehead against the cold tiles on the wall.  
While showering, you begin to get restless and you start to shake a little. Checking the time on the wall you realise the time is now 10:45, almost 13 hours since your last hit.

Recently, the periods in between hits have grown increasingly shorter, and you know your body is now almost fully dependant on this stuff. You climb out of the shower and wrap a towel around your pale body. After towel drying your hair, you make your way to the kitchen counter and open the drawer where your usual stash is kept.

_A sniff. _

_You breath out of your mouth._

_Close your eyes._

_And you feel okay again._

Not long later, you're dressed and ready to leave the house. Your usual attire; black jeans, a white t-shirt and leather jacket paired with some black boots and some Ray Bans are all you need and you're ready to go. Your hair is messy and hangs over your face, so you push your sunglasses on the top of your head to prevent it falling into your eyes.

You grab your car keys off the kitchen counter and close your apartment door behind you, heading for the car park. You're pleased with the car you have – black and expensive. You really ought to get yourself a bigger apartment, but you can't quite tear yourself away from the one you own currently. So many memories of parties, late nights, friends, _her_.

_You shake your head. _

It isn't long before you reach your destination – the cartel warehouse. It was hidden well in the depths of Brooklyn and from the outside, looked like an average derelict warehouse. You have a meeting with Kubra about recruiting some new 'Mules' to the ring. You know from previous experience that you could do this easily, which is why Kubra chose you to rope them in. It was something about your cocky, confident attitude that left many of them unable to refuse.

You didn't even have to have a meeting with him, and the both of you knew it. You were really fucking good at what you did. You got them talking, treated them to something nice, gave them a proposition and then slept with them to seal the deal.

Fucking them was like your way letting them know they belonged to the drug ring. And as much as you sometimes didn't want to do it, this was your job and the money was really, really worth it.

"Here's a list of our new employees." He chucked the list at you as you entered his office.

Your eyes scanned over the list. Each name was complete with photo, age, bio and location. You couldn't deny that all of them were pretty, and you were sure you'd have no problem with these girls. It wasn't unusual to have more than 1 at a time, but 4 new Mules was something you'd never seen before. This could only mean that some of the others weren't pulling their weight.

"Wow, you really need this many?"

Kubra nodded. "Count yourself lucky, I almost threw a guy onto the list for good measure. Now, don't tire yourself out will you? You're my best employee. I would hate to think that you couldn't handle it…"

"Me? Never." You cut him off. "Just give me a week or so."

"Done. Do your best. From what I hear they're all trustworthy girls, but I trust that you'll judge for yourself. If you think they're worth a shot, bring them to me."

"I can do that."

The date on the calendar said '4th March' which meant that you had a little over 3 weeks to get these girls under your thumb. You knew it was going be easy; these girls would fall into the palm of your hands easily enough.

You hung around in the office for an hour or so, looking through the paperwork of the recent deals that had been taking place. Since becoming fully involved in the ring, you were seen as the one that everyone had to respect, just like Kubra and Fahri. This meant that you weren't directly involved in the trades as such, but you were responsible for training up the new Mules that entered the ring.

After leaving the warehouse, you dropped Nicky a text and headed to her place. She lived close to the centre of the city but her high apartment meant that you were separated from the goings on in the street below. Honestly, you found any excuse you could to visit her apartment. She was your best friend, and was always up for getting shit faced or high when you needed her to. As well as this, her rooftop apartment meant that the two of you would spend countless days and nights out on the roof, talking in the view and talking about your usual shit.

"Come up." She spoke through the intercom, buzzing the door to let you in.

You climbed the stairs and made it to her apartment a couple of minutes later. Her apartment door was open but you made sure to lock it on your way in to stop any unwanted visitors. As usual, her apartment smelled faintly of weed and vodka. The fiery haired woman was sat on the couch arguing with someone over the phone.

You stood, smirking slightly as you watched her rage in front of you. When the conversation was over, she rolled her eyes and threw her phone down onto the couch.

"Fucking ex-girlfriends. I swear, who needs 'em?"

You laughed and shook your head. This was a typical day for Nichols, argue with an ex, rant for a few hours and then get stoned out on the rooftop.

She walks to the fridge and pulls out a couple of beers, then goes to the cupboard and brings out a bottle of whiskey.

"It's like you read my mind." You smirked.

"Dude, most of the time I know what you're thinking, even when you don't. Help me outside with these, I got a feeling we could both use this right now."


End file.
